The Gentle Art of Cooking Wives Part 18

Now, Nannie had never fancied this gentleman, and to-night, as she noted his glowering look, she felt a savage desire to annoy him.

"h.e.l.lo, chick," he said, brusquely In answer to little Mamie's greeting. "Good-evening, Nannie," he added, taking out his paper and seating himself.

As he did so Mrs. Earnest came into the room. She always seemed ill at ease in her husband's presence, though she strove to appear the contrary.

"Why, good-evening, dear," she began. "Are you home?"

"No, I'm not," he said roughly. "Can't you see?"

"I thought I recognized you," she replied, forcing a little laugh.

He made no reply.

"Did you bring the sugar, dear?" she asked presently.

"No, I didn't."

She was depending on this for preserving, and she wanted to ask why he failed, but did not quite dare.

"Can you bring it to-morrow?" she inquired after an awkward pause.

"I don't know," he said gruffly.

Again she hesitated. She was very gentle and naturally timid, and his treatment had increased the latter tendency. At last she mustered strength to say:

"I need it very much."

There was no reply, and directly she left the room.

Now, not one iota of this domestic scene was lost upon Nannie. From the day she had listened to that story told by Constance Chance to her young friend (Mrs. Earnest's oldest child) she had been looking about her sharply. The first direction of eyes newly opened is outward. We see our neighbors--see that instead of performing their part like men they are skulking through life--men as churls, snarling, or it may be stalking, automaton fas.h.i.+on; men as sticks, walking, and we hasten to correct their errors. Our own correction comes afterward, if at all, for as the poet has told us, it were easier to tell twenty what were good to be done than to be one of the twenty to do it.

Nannie fastened her eyes upon Mr. Earnest, but as he was now absorbed in his paper he lost the benefit of her fierce glances.

"Why don't you tell?" urged Mamie, who did not relish this interruption to her story.

"Well, once there lived a horrid pig."

"Why, that's not it," said the child pettishly. "It's a kitty."

"No, it's a pig," reiterated Nannie with emphasis. "A horrid, selfish pig!"

"I don't like that," pouted Mamie. "You begin about a kitty, and just as I'm getting interested in her you go off on a pig."

"Well, then, once there was a big, horrid cat."

"You said a dear little kitty," cried Mamie.

"He was a dear little kitty once, I suppose, but he grew up to be a big selfish, glowering, tortoise-sh.e.l.l tomcat."

"Was there any mama kitty?" asked Mamie, who yearned for a gentle element in the story.

"Yes, and she was lovely, so unselfish and kind, but the big, ugly one bullied her all the time till she was afraid to call her soul her own."

"Did they have any teeny weeny kitties?" asked Mamie.

"Yes, three of them. The oldest was very sweet and the next was rather good sometimes, but showed signs of being horrid like the big one when he grew up, and the littlest of all was very cunning and good."

"Did they have a little house?"

"Yes, but it was awfully hard to keep it, because when Mrs. Kitty wanted anything she was afraid to ask old Mr. Cat for it, and when he forgot things, instead of begging her pardon, as he should have done, he would glare at her until she was afraid of her life. Oh, he was an odious old thing! He thought he was very big and handsome, but he was horrid-looking, and everybody hated him and he made everybody wretched. Well, one day Mrs. Kitty was going to give a birthday party for the weeniest kitty. They none of them wanted old Mr. Cat to come, because n.o.body could have a good time when he was around, but they didn't know how to get rid of him without making him angry--he was always angry at somebody or something.

"Now the family who owned these kitties had some rabbits, and lately something had been killing the rabbits, and they wanted to find out what it was, so they set a trap. Well, on the birthday Mrs. Kitty prepared a nice little dinner; she had some new milk, and a little meat and a bit of cheese, and six little mice. The table was so pretty, and everybody sat down, and there was no end of the fun going on, until suddenly they all stopped talking and laughing, for they saw hateful Mr. Cat. He came sulking and glowering along, as if somebody outside had whipped him and he wanted to take it out of his family.

Mrs. Kitty begged him to sit down, and the little kitty told him it was her birthday party.

"'What can I help you to?' asked Mrs. Kitty in her pretty voice, trying not to look frightened.

"'None of this stuff,' he growled. 'Haven't you anything decent to eat?'

"'I'm afraid we haven't anything but this,' said Mrs. Kitty, her teeth chattering with dread for fear he'd pounce on the table and break the dishes. 'Do please take something,' she begged.

"But he only made a great hateful ts-s! and turned away as mad as he could be, and then down he hopped right into the rabbit trap, which happened to be near.

"Out came one of the boys of the family, hallooing and shouting to the others that he had heard the trap go off and knew they'd caught the thief, and the poor little kitties ran away as fast as their small legs would carry them, not stopping to see that horrid old Mr. Cat was held fast."

"What became of Mr. Cat?" asked Mamie.

"He came to a bad end, as all such creatures do," said Nannie in a terrible voice.

At this point Jim's interest outran his pride, and he swung open the door so that he could hear better.

"What became of him?" persisted Mamie.

"He received a sound trouncing," said Nannie.

Just at this juncture of affairs she caught sight of Mr. Earnest's eyes peering at her above his paper. Had they been filled with tears or dark with remorse she might have relented, but, shocking to relate, they were fairly twinkling with merriment, and Nannie perceived that she was amusing her auditor hugely, instead of reading him a terrible lesson, and in her anger she all but lost control of herself.

"Wasn't anything else done to him?" asked Jim in a rather disappointed tone.

"Yes," said Nannie, glaring at Mr. Earnest in a fierce, defiant manner.

"Oh, that's enough to do to him," pleaded little Mamie.

"No, it isn't," said Jim. "He ate up the rabbits."

"Maybe he didn't eat the rabbits," urged tender-hearted Mamie.

"No, he didn't eat the rabbits. A weasel did that," said Nannie, her awful gaze still fixed on Mr. Earnest's laughing eyes. "But he had been ugly to his family, and that's the worst, the meanest thing a man--a cat can do, and Providence caught him in a trap to punish him."

"What else was done to him?" persisted Jim.